


Understanding

by Paralelsky



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Gen, Light Angst, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-09 20:17:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11676339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paralelsky/pseuds/Paralelsky
Summary: ...comes when we listen, not when we hear what we want when the other person is talking. This is something both Peter Parker and Tony Stark need to learn when it comes to each other.





	1. Saying No to the Avengers is only the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I'm rustier than an old car forgotten outside for too long, but Spider-Man: Homecoming was so good, it fired some forgotten muse inside that wouldn't let me go. So I tried my hand at it. :)  
> Warning: un-betaed

Getting the suit back is awesome, the paperwork that gets delivered not a day later, not so much. Half of the legalese flies over Peter’s head, and the small print gives him a headache, but according to them, he is both bound and an exception to the Sokovia accords, as long as he stays low. Which makes Peter wonder how much higher the stack of papers would have been, had he joined the Avengers.

Forget the Vulture, now that was a scary thought.

Oh, and he was also an intern at Stark Industries, for real this time, with a mandatory two hours per week lab time, that he figures are only for show. He’s delighted to have something official to show Flash up next time he gets too mean with the insults, but he can’t deny his stomach twists a little when he thinks that Mr. Stark is probably too busy to deal with him personally and that it will be months until he may see the hero again. He’s also trying to curb his calls to Happy, there are a hundred and fifty-two messages he's sent, and maybe Peter wants to hide for a week when he thinks about that. No wonder the man rejected his latter calls.

So imagine his surprise when Saturday afternoon, tired after a week of school, night patrols and various extracurricular activities, his phone buzzes with a message from an unknown number.

_If you don’t come in the next two hours I’m reinstating the Training Wheels Protocol._

Scrambling to get into his suit, Peter stubs his toe on his desk and nearly topples the latest Lego project he and Ned had worked during the week, but in ten minutes he’s swinging across the city. His heart is beating so hard Karen asks about his state of mind, but he pays no attention. The former Avengers Tower looms in front of him just as he realizes that with the Stark Industries gone, this is no longer the right address, and maybe he should have read the papers a bit more thoroughly. Luckily, there’s a figure waving him down from the side of the Tower, and Peter can see Happy Hogan looking at him, tapping his foot.

“Get in the car.” Happy says as soon as Peter lands gracefully in front of him, and other than a sheepish salute from Peter, their conversation trickles to an early death as Happy raises the partition glass between them. When they arrive are at the Avengers Compound, Mr. Stark is there, one drink in hand and watching him with one eyebrow higher than the other.

“Mr. Stark, hi. I mean I thought that this wasn’t, you know, real. I mean I know it’s real, but not-”

“Get inside, Peter, before you run out of air,” the inventor puts down his drink and is already going for the elevator, anxious teenager hurrying beside him. Peter can barely keep from spilling too many words, but it’s hard when he’s not sure of what is about to happen.

“Here,” Mr. Stark says as he enters a code and the door swish open revealing an engineer’s idea of heaven. Peter is a little bit in love, as he goes in and reverently touches the equipment while Mr. Stark goes directly to a display system.

“Now, show me a bit what your web can do,” Peter is yanked out of his reverie just as a holographic display pops up in front of him with images and formulas and in the right corner an index with several deadly spiders.

The mandatory two hours pass far too quickly in Peter’s opinion.


	2. Two steps forward, one step back

That is not to say that they do that every week. A car picks him at the edge of the city, and sometimes it’s Happy who greets him when he enters the compound and gets him down to the lab. But more often than not, FRIDAY takes on the role, and despite her being a fantastic AI, he never lingers in the lab those days.

He knows he’s never actually alone, there are security guards and formal looking agents who give him side eyes when they catch a glimpse of him, but his pass is encrypted with Stark tech, and after the official introduction they pretend he doesn’t matter.

He’s also running out of things to tinker on, as most of the projects which look remotely interesting are under lock, and that one time he tried to cross the line, the resulting alarms went out so loudly his ears kept ringing hours after the clean-up, while the flashing lights stabbed his eyes. Peter still feels queasy when he remembers, so he’s trying to behave.

But he’s bored. 

...

“What’s this?” Peter asks when he comes into the lab and sees the inventor going through some of his notes. After weeks of coming alone to the lab, he can’t help but feel Tony Stark is invading his personal space.

“These are good,” Tony Stark says switching through the files on the holographic display. “You came up with some interesting ideas, kid.”

“No need to sound so surprised, you did give me a scholarship,” Peter says before he can think better, and then Tony minimizes the screen and turns around to the teenager who has yet to move from the doorway.

“Yeah, I did. What’s the matter, kid? I thought you wanted your independence.”

Peter feels his cheeks burning, and then he enters the lab and drops his backpack with more huff than necessary on a nearby chair. He’s already changed from the suit to street clothes, but for once he would have liked the anonymity of his mask. He goes to hover just on the right of the inventor as the man goes back to reading. The silence stretches on, and Peter can’t help his fidgeting.

“Why can’t I use the suit to its full capacity? Why are still locks on it?” he says when waiting becomes too much. It’s one of the little things he’s been carrying around since he started coming to the lab and seeing what the tech could do. The knowledge stings a little.

“Have you been tinkering with the suit? Because I made it clear in the paperwork that this is maintenance only,” Tony says giving Peter his full attention. He doesn’t sound too ticked off, but his tone is lower than usual, and Peter has learned to from his previous experience to tread more lightly when that happens.

“No,…no I, it’s just that I wanted to try something and the suit just didn’t work, you know…”

“No, I don’t know, which makes me wonder what you were trying to do.”

Peter flushes and then fidgets with the tools on the closest working bench. “It’s nothing. But, why can’t I use it all?” he’s looking at anything but the inventor.

“Peter, I’ve put the suit through almost every conceivable scenario before giving it to you. Trust me when I tell you that you tinkering with it would not go well.”

Right, that stings more than a little. It’s just another reminder that to the inventor he’s still a child. “But that’s it. These are my abilities. Why can you trust me to know better?”

“Because you’ve lied to me more than once when you shouldn’t have, knowing -”

“Oh come on, that was that one time!”

“-knowing that I wouldn’t approve of what you’re doing?” Mr. Stark continues despite the interruption, arms crossed on his chest, while he’s leaning on the workbench.

“So that’s it? You’re…you’re testing me?”It makes perfect sense to him now. This is not a scholarship; this is how Mr. Stark is keeping an eye on him to avoid any other screw-ups. Peter swallows thickly, but his stomach feels as if he’d been eating rocks for lunch.

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just trying to give you a hand.”

“Right, help me. How can you do that when you’re never here?” Just as the words come, Peter wishes he’d take them back. He has promised himself he would never mention _that_ again.

“I can’t help but feel a little hostility there, buddy. Is this how you want me? Because you’d better be prepared for the consequences.” Mr. Stark says, and the tension is now visible in the rigid line of his shoulders.

Suddenly there isn’t enough saliva in his mouth when Peter asks,“What. What consequences?”

“If you want me here, then there are some rules we need to go over. But first, you have to agree not to lie to me anymore.”

“Oh,” Peter says, his fight leaving him like the air escaping a pierced balloon. He hasn’t expected it, that despite him taking down the Vulture his previous actions would have consequences, but in retrospect, he can see he’s been overly optimistic. “And if I agree to that. I can…work with you on my suit? And other projects.”

“We’ll see about that. But it’s a good start.”

He can do that. He can totally do that. He’s a good kid, as his aunt May keeps telling him. So not lying should not be too hard. Right?

Peter nods slowly, even as some small part of himself knows that something is still missing. This is what he wanted, so why does he feel a little bit uneasy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony, Tony, Tony... hypocritical much?


	3. I'm fine. Seriously

“So this guy just jumps at me, and I’m trying to web him, but his buddy just keeps swinging with this freaky gun, and man – “

“Peter, I’ve seen the video.” Tony Stark fiddles with a holographic display of the Mark 55, busy calculating and discarding several ideas at once, apparently listening only with half an ear to Peter’s chatter. He looks in his element, and Peter has seen him going at it for hours if no one disturbs him.

“Sorry, Mr Stark. I wasn’t trying to talk your ear off,” Peter is looking at his feet, fingers wrinkling the hem of his t-shirt.

“Is anything else you want to tell me?” the inventor asks with a slight grin. He’s turned sideways from his screens, hand hovering over the controls.

“What? Nothing. It’s good. It’s all good.” Peter tries to look at Mr Stark, Tony - he’s asked to be called that, but Peter can’t seem to make up his mind, and it sounds just too familiar - but, he can’t keep the direct stare for long. He tries to brace his arms, but the move sends a sharp spike of hurt to the ribs on his right side. He winces and then tries to smile to cover it. “Seriously, I’m fine.”

“Because that gun packed a punch,” Tony says, and Peter feels a bit stupid.

Ah, so he knows. Of course, he does, he’s freakin' Tony Stark, and Karen is a traitor, Peter thinks a bit peeved, but maybe he hasn’t noticed that Peter maybe froze for a moment, and if his self-preservation instincts hadn’t kicked in, the injury would have been a touch more lethal.

As casual as he can, Peter leans against the workbench, “Ugh, that new web fluid is awesome. I didn’t slip once, and it was raining so hard like I’m telling you…” and his voice squeaks a little at the end.

The inventor is still watching him with a considering look, but he doesn’t press the issue.

Peter tells himself he’s glad. And if he doesn’t say anything about how bluish-violet ray guns with a screeching whine are a big part of his nightmares, that’s not a lie isn’t it?

...

“Spider-Man, clear the area right now!”

But Peter can’t move. The old station is coming to pieces around him, the concrete and steel groaning as the pillars crumble one after the other in what seems to him slow motion, but he’s frozen on the wall and staring at the tiny tunnel that is his salvation.

“…Peter!” Someone is shouting in his ear, and Peter suddenly weaves between collapsing concrete and dust clouding his vision, and he jumps into the tunnel, rolling twice before coming to a halt, just in time to see most of the ceiling coming down in the previous spacious room.

He stares at the destruction for a long moment, never mind the frantic calls in his ears, until his heart stops rabbiting against his chest, and his nausea calms a little.

“I'm all right,” Peter says, words barely making out from his closed throat.

But he doesn’t think he’s coming back to New York’s underground anytime soon. Later, when Tony prods and questions, all he can say aloud is that there’s no problem, and suit functioned flawlessly, thank you very much, and no, there was no need for a better audio equipment, because in the tunnels the reception was always bad.

…

“…This is not working,” Tony says quietly, just as Peter comes to his senses.

For a moment Peter is confused because he could have sworn he was in the lab, so he has no idea what he’s doing asleep on the couch in Tony Stark’s rooms, a soft blanket covering him. The leather creaks under him as he changes position and he can tell the older man is moving around. Peter opens his eyes.

“There you are, Sleeping Beauty,” Tony is fixing himself a drink, and watching Peter with a slight frown. “Kid, is there anything you want to tell me?”

Peter shakes his head, even as the motion makes him a bit queasy. “I’m sorry?”

“Are you sorry for falling asleep in the middle of an awesome experiment, or are you sorry for coming here looking like an extra from a bad zombie flick?”

“Ugh, both?” and then Tony just raises an eyebrow that makes Peter just stammer on, “I just...have trouble sleeping lately, I guess.”

It feels good to say it aloud, almost as if he can breathe a little better. Maybe he can…

“Anything I should know about?”

“Nah, just school.” the words are out before he can stop them, the excuse so familiar on his tongue, and Peter can’t take them back without sounding like a child who can’t make up his mind.

Tony nods, as if he’s received exactly the answer he’s been expecting, and his frown lines deepen around his mouth. He drinks the glass in one go, and then says, “I’ve already talked to your aunt, so she knows you spent the night here. You still have half an hour to freshen up before a car will take you back to Queens.” And with that, he leaves the room, while Peter just curls under the blanket, but going back to sleep is the farthest thing from his mind.

Something is about to change, he can just feel it.


	4. Honesty is the key

He thinks he can make it, so he doesn’t call for help.

Even when the gang starts shooting like mad and he barely dodges the bullets because not sleeping has slowed his reflexes and his web lines don’t connect a third of the time.

Even when the pile of cars stacked on the bridge gets too much for the support beans and the metal groans as the lines snap one of the other.

It takes a full purple blast to the chest throwing him over the edge and into the icy water for Karen to override his command and call for backup, and as Peter loses consciousness his last thought for awhile is that he really screwed up this time.

He wakes only once to the feeling of flying but promptly passes out.

…

The cot is scratching his cheek when he manages to open his eyes, and the blanket is an unwelcome weight on his chest. His hands and feet are freezing from the air conditioning and combined with the gentle whirl of hi-tech machinery; it tells him exactly where he is.

The lab under the compound, but Peter is at loss on how he’s gotten there, as the memories are slow to come back. He tries to rise only to fall back when his ribs protest the move. A shuffling to his right catches his attention. Mr. Stark is there, leaning forward while seating, his elbows supported on his knees. He’s watching Peter intently, but doesn’t say a thing.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter croaks, and then embarrassed, he clears his throat.

“Mr. Parker, did you know that even with enhanced healing, traces of your wounds remain in your bones and muscles?”

“What?”

“Yeah, funny thing that.” Mr. Stark continues as if he hasn’t been interrupted. “So imagine my surprise when your medical scans came back with a whole set of injuries, ranging from severe neck muscle damage to a broken left tibia dated to a week ago, that I know nothing about.” He stresses each word until they feel like punches thrown, even though he never raises his voice.

Peter wants to sink into the floor, “Mr. Stark, I,” but Mr. Stark is not done.

“They were nowhere in your report because I can quote them from memory and, news flash, they all say the same thing ‘I’m fine, don’t need backup.' So what was it?”

Peter opens and then closes his mouth, the words stuck in his throat.He stares down at his fist gripping and twisting the blanket.

“What else have you been hiding from me?” Tony sighs. “ I can’t believe I’m saying this, but the others were right. You’re a child, and I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.”

Peter doesn’t hear the auto-recrimination in the older man’s voice, nor the defeat. What he hears is that he is not good enough, that he is not what it’s needed, or expected. It makes him sick. “Don’t treat me like I’m just a dumb kid -”

“Peter, you are a kid, but I never called you dumb.”

“Then what’s all this? Why do you need me to tell you everything? Why can you just trust me to deal with it?”

“I trust you, I do, but you’re in over your head, and you never called for backup!”

“Like that has ever helped!”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, just forget I said anything.”

“Peter!”

“I said it’s none of your business. So, what are you going to do? Take your suit back?” he asks with a trembling voice. “Because if you are, then you gotta tell me now- “

“I should. I should ground you! But heaven knows you’ll just find some horrific way to put yourself in danger without me keeping an eye on you.”

“You can’t…, can’t just give it and take it as you please. So, why don’t I spare you the trouble!” Peter is out of the cot and yanking as the fabric, something tearing a little as he tugs with frantic movements.

“Peter, what are you doing?” Tony says standing, hand outstretched to the teenager, but not close enough to touch. Peter reels back anyway, awkwardly taking the suit off, and he’s shoving the botched fabric towards the inventor. “Here, take it. Take it!” he’s almost throwing it away when Tony snaps, “Peter, stop! I’m not taking it! Stop!”

The silence is broken only by their ragged breathing. And then Peter just lowers his hand still clutching the suit. “Why?”

“Because,” Tony visibly swallows when his voice comes a bit thick, “I’d rather have you out there, mad at me and wearing the suit, than not have you there at all.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Now please get dressed, before someone comes and sees you.” And Peter remembers he’s only wearing his boxers. His cheeks get redder than a stopping light as he speedily dresses up. His ribs now take the time to remind him they’re injured and Peter bites back a hiss of pain.

“But seriously, kid. This can’t happen again. And I know it’s my fault for forgetting how old you are. Ah,” Tony raises one finger when Peter is about to protest, and wisely Peter shuts up. “Good. But, you need to tell someone what’s happening to you. And if it’s not me, then it’s your aunt or your guy in the chair. You can’t go at it alone.”

“Why?”  
“Because you shouldn’t. Not when help is here for you. And since, like it or not, I’m older and if not wiser, at least more experienced, what I say goes.”

“I’ll… I’ll do it. But can I please, say something without you getting mad? I mean, madder than you are right now?”

Peter takes a deep breath and winces only a little. But he needs to do this right now before he lets the fight fester between them.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing? I was the one who yelled at you.”

“It’s just. I’m scared that if I do something you wouldn’t like, you’ll take back… And I don’t want that. I guess …I just didn’t want to blow it. Pretty stupid, huh?”

Tony stares at him for a long moment, before visibly deflating. He comes close enough until he can put an arm on Peter’s shoulder. It feels nice, and Peter inches even closer, before trying to take a step back, but Tony wouldn’t let him. “You scared me kid. So for my poor heart, please don’t do that. And I really need you to be upfront with me. So no more secrets, alright?”

“I will try.”

“At least, now you’re being honest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to lie, I'm not overly pleased with this chapter, yet I wanted to finish the story before going on vacation and losing access to the internet. I took a very long break from writing before starting this story and it shows. But I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
